


Moonlit Red

by heisnameless



Category: BlacKkKlansman (2018)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Multiple, Pagan Rituals, Vomiting, that don't work out so well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-05
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:55:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26832526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heisnameless/pseuds/heisnameless
Relationships: Flip Zimmerman/Reader, Flip Zimmerman/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Moonlit Red

**POV:** _Lucifer!Flip_

Flip Zimmerman was seventeen years old when he made a deal with the devil. He’d tried so desperately to sell his soul, to give him everything he wanted, but instead, Lucifer only seemed to want one thing in return. To use his body to lure in desperate souls willing to give anything to feel a glimpse of _something_. It had worked. The boy, the innocent boy, had given himself, his body to the Devil. That had been now thirteen years ago. 

_“You’re sulking again, dear boy.”_ The words left Flip’s mouth though they weren’t his own. He couldn’t remember the last time he said a word that was his. He was constantly trapped inside the confines of his mind, caged in like a rabid animal. 

_Me, sulking?_ His voice echoes, pounding against the walls of his skull. He attempts a warning growl that today wasn’t the day for arguments, but it only strengthened his growing headache.

“Don’t you hear them calling? They’re calling for you. Isn’t that what you wanted? The love, the adoration?” Lucifer taunts, clicking his tongue before giving a dry laugh.

 _That’s what_ you _wanted._ There’s a twitch of his fingers, the only sign of Flip’s control over his own body. Then, he does hear them. He hears the calls from above, the pleas for death, the calls for help, the prayers. A sense of euphoria floods his body but it isn’t his pleasure to retain, it’s the devil’s.

Before either of them can complain further, they’re transported to the middle of nowhere. Gravel crunches beneath Flip’s feet as he steps forward into a street light. In front of him, a woman sobs as her shoulders shake. 

**POV:** _Reader_

There’s blood dripping from your palm. It leaks between the cracks and crevices between each rock below you. The moment you hear them, your head turns upwards, eyes widening.

“Hades?” The name rolls off your tongue before you can keep it back. The man in front of you frowns deeply, head turning. No, no it’s not. 

“I’ll let him know you called if I see him. Give a little jump to Hell, sweetheart.” He grins crookedly, chin tilted up before clicking his tongue as he chides. “Besides, if that’s your practice, you should know, a blood offering for your God? How desperate are you?”

You swallow hard, attempting to dry the tears that well in the corners of your eyes. Your knees were beginning to grow numb from just how long you had been pressing into the cold gravel. “I don’t have to answer that.”

Inside of the man, Flip aches as he watches you. He can sense the push and pull of Lucifer, trying to decide what he’s supposed to do with this one. Are you his to take? No, not technically. But would he like to _play_? Indeed he would. “Oh, Phillip, stop whining, it’s _loud_.”

When the man begins talking to himself, you stir, half-tempted to reach for the blade at your side. You do it anyways. Then, you curse yourself lowly, slowly rising to your feet before him as he speaks again. This time, he faces you, eyes taking in every inch of you and your bloodied self. His eyes glimmer red as he hums. “You can’t kill the devil, sweets.”

Still, you hold the blade out shakily, feeling it dig into the cut of your still-bleeding palm. You’re sure that you will have a nasty bruise to remember this night by once you get out of this mess you’ve thrown yourself into. You blurt then. “Why are you - talking to yourself?”

His head falls back then as laughter rumbles through his chest. It’s dark, deep and it makes your chest ache, makes your legs shake, and your stomach whirl. However, that may have been from the blood loss, but no, you won’t get sick here. Not in front of the devil himself. He begins, “ _Sweetheart–_ ”

You cut him off and he grins at your gutsy response. “Would you stop calling me that? I have a name!”

He gives a wave of his hand, eyes rolling. In a blink, he had his large palm around your wrist, seizing it up to pry the bloody knife from between your fingers before tossing it to the ground. “Will you let me continue now?”

_Free her, free her, free her!_ Flip was shouting inside of his mind, fingers giving their telltale twitch of his existence. Lucifer, however, doesn’t wait for a response. You were frozen in your place now. “My dear, Y/N, we are not alone. Don’t play dumb, you should know how this works. You’ve studied it since you were a child, haven’t you?”

“How - how do you know my name?” Your eyes were wide and now, now you knew you were going to throw up. You were going to hurl all over the devil if he didn’t release you within the next minute. The pale tone and clamminess of your skin must have said as much because, after a moment, his hand was gone from your wrist. Bent over, nothing left your stomach but dry heaves and each bone in your body ached. Still, he continues to like it’s nothing.

“I’m the devil, sweets. I know everything, just like I know this man is tearing himself apart trying to get to you.” 


End file.
